


no need to ask me

by howdoyousleep



Category: Defending Jacob (TV 2020), The Bronze (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bottom Lance Tucker, Coming Untouched, Consensual Sex, Crying, Daddy Kink, Desk Sex, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Doggy Style, Dom/sub Undertones, Feminization, Gay Sex, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Public Humiliation, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Top Andy Barber, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdoyousleep/pseuds/howdoyousleep
Summary: "That was quite a scene there, baby. Made a bit of a fool’a yourself wouldn’t you say?” What the fuck?“What? How long have you been sittin’ there like a creep?” Andy takes another couple of steps, closes in with broad shoulders, crosses his arms.“Long enough to see that pitiful display of what I assume was flirting.”Or: Lance Tucker is a brat and needs a Daddy to keep him in check.
Relationships: Andy Barber/Lance Tucker
Comments: 38
Kudos: 197





	no need to ask me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stevebuckiest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy! Please heed the tags.

Lance tends to like Fridays. He pushes his gymnasts harder because it’s the end of the week, more people are in and out of the gym so he can show he knows his shit a little more, and let’s be completely transparent—Lance feeds off the attention. He’s worthy of said attention, knows people are aware of his status, knows people find him hot as fuck whether they like it or not. Fridays are the days where Lance feels _good,_ feels powerful, feels of value.

He’s spent the day working with his own girls, focusing on things beyond the basics; they’re passed that shit. They needed to work on sharpness and sticking landings and fuck if they couldn’t understand just how to make things tight. They did alright, nothing like he could do, but he feigned exasperation and disappointment nonetheless to get under their skin a little bit.

The moments where he wasn’t meeting with his own athletes he spent on the outskirts of the floors. He loved how even his presence rubbed other coaches and players the wrong way, how he didn’t even have to open his mouth to get under other people’s skin. That made actually opening his mouth and spouting off taunts that much sweeter. When he wasn’t on the outskirts of the floor, he spent his time working his charm on the front desk girls, the few coaches in the office.

He wasn’t genuinely interested in these chicks, but flirting was fun and if he got some pussy out of it that was just a happy accident. He knew what his smirk did to people, knew that if he licked his lips just the right way and paired it with a look up and down, he might have a chance. It’s been a long day, one of his few full days, and the people around him are busy closing the gym down. He’s in the middle of working his shot with this pretty blonde (Amanda? Miranda? He can’t remember and can’t find it in himself to care) when _—_

“ _Andy?”_

Lance’s glance to his right leads him to catching an out of place crisp dress shirt out of the corner of his eye. Andy is seated in the waiting area meant for parents, ankle of one leg resting on the opposite knee, arms spread onto the backs of the chairs on either side of him, suit jacket tossed into the chair next to him. He looks casually out of place in this gym, looks infinitely better than Lance does in his tracksuit. Well, maybe not _better_ but he looks like belongs back in his office or in a courtroom. He looks good.

“Hey, baby,” Andy purrs, tilts his head a little as he says it, and Lance is immediately on alert at his tone. It’s an odd tone, like a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, a little bitten off. Add that to Andy having never shown up to his place of work has him feeling on edge. That edge hardens slightly when Lance realizes his predicament: he’s propped up onto the front desk counter and has been staring down the shirt of AmandaMiranda for the past ten, fifteen minutes.

How long had Andy been sitting there?

“What are you doing here?” It comes out much more harshly than he intends for it to, so much so that the girl behind the front desk takes it as her cue to leave. He’s upset with himself and his tone for maybe half a minute before he starts to think about how uncalled for it is for Andy to show up unannounced, for him to sit there and watch Lance like some sort of creep.

Andy’s eyebrows raise in an unnerving move and he responds with a cool, “You’re not happy to see me?” That isn’t fair. Lance is always happy to see Andy, always excited to see the older man, still gets a few butterflies in his chest, his stomach, but he needs to play it cool. He can’t come off as eager, needs to give Andy the chase that everybody else gets. He scoffs at Andy’s words, looks around as he deepens his lean on the front counter, hip cocked.

“I mean you’re not the worst thing I’ve ever seen come through those doors I guess.”

Andy doesn’t look impressed, gives Lance a look that conveys just that, leaves him on shaky ground as the last few to leave walk past them. Someone asks Lance if he’ll lock up and he brushes them off, says it’s no big deal, tells them he can handle it. Andy doesn’t take his eyes off Lance once. He didn’t realize how much he depended on those few short minutes with other people in his presence, other people in the building with him and Andy, until they’re gone.

It’s unnerving.

Andy Barber isn’t Lance’s type. He’s a rule-follower, a suit, never raises his voice, _a man,_ but he’s got pretty eyes and hands that Lance loves to feel tight around his thighs and the juiciest bottom lip he’s ever found. After running into him enough at his lawyer’s office ( _Lance doesn’t want to talk about it_ ) and exchanging flirty glances, Andy made a move and asked Lance if he wanted to go get a drink.

_“Yeah sure—what the hell?”_

Andy was a little older than Lance and, even though they were wildly different, they got along well. Lance found that he could be more of himself with Andy, let loose a little more, found that Andy could keep up with his banter. Lance would have never guessed that Andy was the kind to fuck on the first date but when a hand slid up his thigh under the cover of the table and a pair of lips found that fucking spot under his ear, he was pleasantly surprised.

They’ve gone on a handful of dates, met up for drinks and gone to see a few movies, but Lance keeps coming back for the sex. He doesn’t let people fuck him often, but Andy Barber is one of them. Andy works out to keep his body right and tight, keeps him fit, knows how to work it to give it to Lance good, an easy 7/10. He lets Lance get a little rough (could give it to him a little rougher if Lance is critiquing), lets him be on top, and it’s great but no amount of a good fuck makes it acceptable to show up unannounced at his place of work.

Before Lance can say anything else, Andy is standing, closing the distance between the two of them slowly. Lance swallows audibly.

“That was quite a scene there, baby. Made a bit of a fool’a yourself wouldn’t you say?”

_What the fuck?_

“ _What_? How long have you been sittin’ there like a creep?” Andy takes another couple of steps, closes in with broad shoulders, crosses his arms.

“Long enough to see that pitiful display of what I assume was flirting.”

That’s uncalled for. It leaves Lance feeling even more off-kilter because Andy has never been mean to him and he’s pretty sure that’s what this is. Lance’s feathers are more than ruffled. He wants to say more, wants to spit his gum in Andy’s face, but the other man is standing toe-to-toe with him now and there’s a tight hand on his chin.

_Ouch._

“You tryin’ to shoot your shot with her? S’that what that was?” Andy’s breath is hot on his lips, grip tight on his chin, and Lance’s brain stutters to a halt somewhat. Andy’s never touched him like this. He can’t think straight, can’t even remember what was happening a few measly minutes ago, and Andy is shaking his chin sharply.

“I asked you a question. You wanted to fuck her?”

Lance’s body goes simultaneously _cold_ and _hot_. He was somewhat interested in fucking her, but he isn’t used to those words coming out of Andy’s mouth, him seemingly not being a crass person whatsoever. He’s almost certain his mouth would drop open if it could at the other man spitting out the word _fuck._ He feels that in his toes. He doesn’t think, just speaks, chooses to bite out, “Why? You wanna watch?”

He doesn’t expect Andy to bite out a chuckle low and deep in the back of his throat, tries not to flinch when he leans forward to press a soft kiss to the corner of Lance’s mouth.

“Wouldn’t be much to watch, sweet boy; if it were the three of us in one room, you’d be gettin’ fucked by both of us.”

Lance’s breath stutters. Andy has only pulled out _sweet boy_ a few times and Lance has tried his hardest to ignore the way it makes his chest pull tight. He’s no one’s sweet boy; he’s a man and he is no ones. He hates the way his chest aches and pulls tight yet again at the straightforwardness of Andy, how he says that Lance would be getting fucked no matter the situation.

He absolutely hates how unopposed and indifferent he feels about that idea.

Even through the feeling of his cheeks burning he’s rolling his eyes and punching out a laugh that’s trying too hard. He’s uncomfortable, hot and bothered and on alert, but when Andy steps forward with him, presses him back into the desk, his chuckle dies into a whimper in his throat.

“Could fuck her if I wanted, _easy_ ,” he says with all the strength he can muster up, tries his hardest to jut his chin out to prove his point more but then Andy is smiling down at him and that’s infuriating.

“Yeah, know you love to strut around dick first but that’s not what you really want is it? What you really like is to be pushed down and fucked until you’re screamin’ for it. And don’t lie to me, sweet boy, because I’ve fucked this pussy enough to know what it likes, what it needs.”

The noise he lets out is betrayal at its finest, a slutty exhale, a shocked little noise. His _pussy_? He’s—

“Don’t have a pussy,” he manages to grit out, shaking his chin free from Andy’s grip, but it’s no use, not when Andy’s other arm wraps tight around his lower back. There are warm lips on his cheek, his jawline, and he hates how much he loves the feeling of that fucking beard on his skin, hates how in-control Andy feels tonight. When said lips reach his ear he snarls pitifully when Andy sucks on his earlobe, feels that hand around his back drop down to his ass.

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” Lance hates how his stomach clenches up at Andy’s barely detectable voice, “Know this is a pussy ‘cause I’ve fucked it.”

A few of Andy’s fingers press and rub tight right up against his asshole, right through his tracksuit, right there behind the front desk of his gym, and Lance fucking whimpers. He isn’t sure if it’s Andy’s unprecedented words or that fact that his dick goes hard as a rock at the other man’s touches, but either way he lets out far too feminine of a noise than he’s comfortable with.

“Does she know you like getting’ fucked too? Does she know that I can make you gag for it, make you squeal for a good dickin’, too?”

_Fuck._

Lance brings his hands up to shove at Andy’s ~~broad muscular thick~~ chest, doesn’t know what else to do in reaction to the other man’s words, doesn’t want to think about how achy his dick is in his pants. Andy chuckles, seemingly full of them today, moves and takes Lance’s shoves like they’re _nothing_ , like Lance isn’t a powerful man himself, and it’s an unintentional low blow.

Their physical banter escalates to Lance finding himself face down and pressed into the desk, Andy’s hand tight between his shoulder blades. He feels the fight in him leave, feels the pool of arousal fog up his brain some, at the pressure of Andy’s crotch, _his dick,_ pressing up against his ass. His cheeks heat up exponentially when he hears the other man let out a throaty groan, squirms as Andy grinds and rubs in tight to Lance’s backside.

“Does she know that you love it when your Daddy fucks your sweet pussy?”

“ _Oh shit.”_

He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, doesn’t mean to make it sound like it was punched right from his chest, but that’s exactly what happens, exactly what it sounds like. Andy has never referred to himself as… _that_ …before. How did Andy know? Did Lance let it slip during any of the times they were fucking? He swore he had buried that part of him deep _deep_ down, hadn’t let anyone find it, but here is Andy Barber of all fucking people yanking it out from the shadows.

“ _Ohh,_ look at that,” Andy purrs, hand between his shoulders sliding up to squeeze at the back of his neck, “Y’went all soft on me just from that one word, didn’t you? _Mhmm_ , such a sweet slutty boy.” Lance’s fingers go tight on the edge of the desk and attempts to use any amount of strength he can muster up to push up, off the desk and out of such a vulnerable position, but all that does is grind his ass back into Andy’s dick more, make him squirm.

He puts up somewhat of a valiant fight, will continue to bicker no matter what, but when he feels the warm length of Andy’s front press against the line of his back, he crumbles on the inside. There’s a hand in his hair, gliding through the back, but then it’s yanking, pulling his head up so Andy can better whisper into his ear, better get his point across.

“’Cause I’m your Daddy, aren’t I? Bratty slut like you needs someone to keep you in line, keep you sweet. Isn’t that right, Lance?”

He wants so badly to moan out loud, wants to give in to the side of him that wants to tell Da— _Andy_ —that he _does_ need someone to keep him in check, _does_ need someone to be sweet for. He swallows a few times, breathing so labored some exhales come out as whimpers, and Andy’s hand in his hair goes taut in a warning.

 _“Ngh,_ yes yeah, sure,” is what Lance spits out while he does what he can to wiggle under Andy’s body, but that only makes him harder, makes his core burn hot with the strength and size of the other man. Teeth hit the hinge of his jaw, a generous nibble that makes him gasp, and Andy’s voice has a harsh edge to it when he says, “ _Fuckin’ say it.”_

Lance is enraged, is fired up, but the urge to give in is stronger, to say what he’s always wanted to say. He hates how much he loves the sting of his scalp and the sting on his jaw, hates how much he loves the way he feels overpowered, wishes it were all in a different setting. It’s all love and hate but he’s whimpering nonetheless, hears himself grit out, “I need a Daddy.”

“Yeah? And who’s that?” _Goddamnit._

“S’you,” he mumbles, “You’re my Daddy.”

The sweet little kiss he gets to his cheek is something that burns through his body straight to his toes, somewhat of a sour preen. He despises the way his body feels after even the smallest amount of immediate gratification, that honey sweetness pooling on the back of his neck. He huffs anyway, right in time for Andy to lift himself off his backside, reach for the waistband of Lance’s pants.

Lance is up for some freaky shit, trying out different positions and in different rooms in the house, but when Andy goes for the top of his track pants, yanks them halfway down his ass, Lance is protesting. It’s not even a worthy attempt, a humiliated noise and a push up off the desk but there’s a hand on the back of his neck, an unwavering one, and another hand smacking tight against the exposed skin of his ass. It’s a shock, makes Lance gasp again, makes him stretch the line of his body as the piece of exposed skin throbs.

It’s too good.

 _“Quit it_. You think I’m not gonna teach you a lesson? You think your Daddy isn’t gonna show you what he thinks of you tryin’ to get your dick wet right in front of him? It’s time you learn your lesson.”

Lance has never once been as turned on as he is right now in this moment. Being a brat is who he is, is ingrained in his core, but he knows better than anyone that’s only because no one’s ever been able to deal with him, has never been able to step up to him. Andy Barber of all people was not someone he expected to rise to such a challenge and knock it out of the fucking park and then some.

Doesn’t mean Lance is done fighting.

As soon as his pants and underwear hit the floor he’s whining out a pathetic, “Andy, listen I—” but gets only those three words out before there’s another smack coming down on his ass but this one has a bite to it, is all palm and no holding back. It makes Lance’s toes curl in his shoes.

“You goin’ stupid on me and all I’ve done is pull your pants down? Huh? Who am I to you?” Lance breathes out his answer, a little gritty, a soft, “ _D-Daddy_ ,” still not feeling comfortable saying the word in such a context and outside of his head. He gets another smack on his ass, the opposite cheek, a squeeze on both cheeks that makes him whimper, one and then the other. He in no way could have anticipated Andy’s next words.

“Show me where Daddy fucks you. Show me that slutty little hole.”

Lance isn’t even moving and he feels dizzy in the head, is horizontal but feels like he’s gone vertical too quickly. He knows what Andy wants, what his words mean, but he would never spread himself open to show anyone his asshole, not even Daddy.

“What? You think I haven’t seen your pussy before? You think I don’t watch that greedy little thing eat me up each time we fuck?” Andy’s hands grip his cheeks as he speaks, pushes and pulls them apart rather roughly, mimics the exact movement Lance recognizes from when they are in bed together. He hadn’t even made the connection before, a little muddled, and the back of his neck burns hot in realization.

Two palms squeeze _tight_ , makes Lance hiss, before Andy is demanding again, “ _Show me_ ,” and Lance does. He brings his hands back, feels them shake as he grabs at his own ass, pulls his cheeks apart. He hears Andy take a few steps back, wants to sink through the floor but also tilt his ass up at the satisfied noise the other man gives him. It drips down his spin like honey, pools at the base of his cock. He wants to sneak a hand under himself, wants to wrap it around his own dick, _wants to come already._

“S’that where Daddy fucks you?” Lance’s fingers dig into his skin, makes it hurt, makes that burn more than the one of shame when he whispers, “That’s where…w-where Daddy fucks me.” He can’t even stop himself from his whisper turning into a breathy whine, almost everything out of his control at this point. He’s on shaky ground now, entirely out of his element, and he feels like he’s dreaming. There is no way for him to anticipate Andy’s next move because this entire experience is unprecedented. Lance has never felt so visible before, so broken open and just _seen_ before.

Which is why he has no warning whatsoever when Andy brings a couple of fingers down to his hole, _his pussy_ , rubs at it like he fucking owns it. Lance bites his lip, bites it hard so he doesn’t let the other man hear his shout, his noise of surprise and pleasure.

“You think she knows you got a pussy too? But that Daddy has to spend time gettin’ yours all wet before he can fuck it?”

The back of Lance’s neck burns hot yet again, feels the skin of his neck and cheeks go tingly at the flush he knows for a goddamn fact is there and building. It’s bad enough to admit that he has a Daddy _and_ a pussy but for Daddy to talk _about_ his pussy? It’s almost too much but “too much” goes right out the fucking window as soon as there are warm palms covering his own, as soon as he hears Andy spit, angry and loud right—

 _“Ohh_ ,” is all Lance can wail, doesn’t bother with being quiet this time, not when Andy just spit on his pussy, not when thick fingers rub said spit around in circles. His balls feel achy and tight, _he wants to come_ , but Daddy’s fingers almost feel better, rub in a motion that makes him want to spread his legs some more. He hears Andy’s chuckle, a dark deep noise, and it adds to the eroticism and forbidden nature of the entire situation.

Andy spits again, this time thick and slow from above and Lance has to screw his eyes shut tight, has to stop himself from shivering as he feels the glob of saliva trickle down his balls. Andy makes it messy, makes his pussy all slick and ready, teasingly presses the tips of two fingers _hard_ against his opening. Andy rumbles, a noise that Lance realizes is something he’s heard before as well but in an entirely different context, just like the ass grab.

Andy steps forward again and Lance feels the heavy weight of his cock smack and rest right in the crack of his ass, right on his pussy and he can’t help but—

_“Fuck, oh…”_

He hadn’t even heard Daddy take his dick out, hadn’t heard the telltale signs of a zipper, _nothing,_ but he knows what that is. This action is one that makes him tilt his hips back, is one that makes him physically plead for what he can only hope is coming at this point. Andy smacks at his hands, pushes them away, and Lance flings his arms forward and scrambles and pushes at papers Lance couldn’t care less about.

“You think she’d still get wet for your dick after watching you cry for your Daddy’s cock?”

Lance sniffles on instinct, checks to see if he’s truly crying even though it most definitely sounds like he is, feels like he is. He almost doesn’t care if he’s crying, not with the feel of Daddy’s cock _not_ fucking him, simply resting there where he should be fucking. He forgets he was asked a question, too distracted to answer, gets a pinch of the ass for his troubles.

“N-no, Daddy.”

“No? I don’t know, sweet boy—you look awful pretty cryin’. I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock from seeing you break down and give into me. She might get all wet from seein’ it too.”

 _“Please_ , p-please,” Lance hears himself say and it’s pathetic, how whiny it is and how it comes from the back of his throat. He doesn’t even know what exactly he’s begging for, but he does know he wants Andy to give him a few fingers, to split him on his cock. He knows he wants to get fucked even if it does mean right here and right now, wants it so bad.

Andy lets his cock slip and slide along his ass crack, hands back to squeezing at the meat of Lance’s ass, lets Lance feel how hard he is. It’s devastating, makes him let out another set of whimpers, makes him turn his cheek into the desk more.

“Get specific, boy,” Andy taunts, grabs for his own cock and smears the fat head of it around the opening of Lance’s pussy, all warm and slick with spit. It makes Lance dizzy.

“F-fuck…fuck me, Daddy, _please_.”

The noise Andy gives him in response is all throat, all chest, deep and warm and it prolongs Lance’s dizziness, makes him curl his fingers into the papers beneath him. There’s pressure and skin on skin and spit and then there’s nothing, nothing at all and a whine slips between Lance’s lips.

“You want a finger or two? Huh? Not gonna loosen you up too much, want you tight for Daddy, want you feelin’ me for a few days. You want that?” And _fuck him_ , he does, nods his head and cries for it, whimpers, “ _Uh-huh_ , yeah yes. Yes, please.”

The finger that slides into him is shocking. Just like he didn’t hear the zipper of Andy’s pants, he does not hear the packet of lube being torn open, but feels it coating said finger. Lance’s breath stutters in his chest, lets out a hefty exhale, one that is akin to a wail. It slips and slides in and out of him without much mercy, all business. It’s a relief but it makes him hungrier, makes him want more.

He doesn’t have to wait long, a second finger sliding smoothly in alongside the first, making him bite out a hefty curse. Daddy’s fingers don’t stop, don’t slow, scissor and press and slide against Lance’s walls in such a way it has his eyelids heavy, has them drooping.

“Look how sweet you get for your Daddy, how sweet you can be when you shut your fuckin’ mouth and listen. Should have put you in your place weeks ago.”

And Lance just nods and drools, all he can manage when Daddy’s thick fingers fuck in and out of him in a pace and angle that makes his gut curl, makes him _moan_ like the helpless animal he feels like. The hand on the back of his neck slides down his jacket, the line of his spine, a soothing gesture that Lance eats up. Andy is right—they should have been doing this for weeks, for the entire time they’ve known each other. Lance has needed a Daddy, _has wanted a Daddy,_ needs—

 _“Daddy_ …”

Andy pulls his fingers free, smears a little more lube around his pussy, shoves some inside and gets him good and wet.

“Yeah, baby that’s right. You just keep sayin’ it ‘cause that’s what I am isn’t it? I’m your Daddy. Daddy isn’t even gonna use a condom, gonna mark you up real good on the inside because he can…”

Lance barely hears the other man’s words, not when his cock is pushing against his rim, pressing in and taking the breath right out of his fucking lungs, his chest. He scrambles, _it’s so much_ , Andy murmuring, “Lemme in, honey come on—let your Daddy in…”, a hand running up and down his back, taking a home in Lance’s hair. He tries his hardest to relax, to lay there and take it, but he wants to squirm as he thinks it’ll make it easier on himself.

It doesn’t.

He thinks Andy tells him to breathe but he can’t be sure, can’t even see out of his eyes with how furiously they water up. He spreads his legs as far as they’ll go, confined by his pants and underwear around his ankles, hears himself shout, moan, curse. Daddy powers through, slides into Lance’s body at a snail’s pace, presses into his little pussy like he _fucking owns it_ , bends and verbalizes just that.

“Want you to think about this, about how this is _my_ pussy, every time you wanna leave your fuckin’ lane and make eyes at somebody else. This is _my_ pussy. _Daddy owns this pussy_.”

Lance wails, feels his lips tremble as he does so, but he’s nodding his head, has no fucking clue why he decides to repeat and sob out, “Daddy owns this pussy!”

He both wants to remember this moment for the rest of his life but also wipe it clean from his memory.

When Andy’s clothed thick thighs meet the bottom of his ass Lance feels like he’s deepthroating Daddy’s cock, feels it all throughout his body, wiggles on it and can barely find it in him to breathe. Lance feels like he’s going to combust. He feels Daddy’s hands on his sides, running up under Lance’s jacket and shirt, like fire against his skin as he is blessedly patient and waits for Lance to adjust.

Andy bends down again, presses hot little kisses up the column of his neck, on the skin behind his ear.

“Gonna fuck this pretty pussy now,” is all the warning he gets before Andy is pulling his hips back and pressing forward again. It isn’t an alarming rate, no slams or yanks, but _fuck_ is it gutting. It’s a brutal pace right from the start, one that has Lance gasping like a fish out of water, like he’s clinging on for dear life. Andy’s cock is heavy in his pussy, _so big_ , spread him open and wide each time he presses back in. It has Lance pushing up onto his toes, has him curling and arching his neck, has him stretching the line of his body against the desk so he can better _feel._

But it’s so much, just barely enough that has Lance a little hysterical, a little upset at himself for wanting to feel more. His legs are spread just enough to where he can feel Daddy’s balls smack against his own, the tap and slide sending little sparks up his spine. He almost wishes he were looking up at Andy, wants to see Daddy’s face, but he would never ask the other man to stop, not now.

“Gonna buy you some sweet little panties, Lance. Gonna make you wear them when you come to work and when…when you walk by this desk and remember how I fucked you so hard you cried your little dick’ll be all wrapped up in the panties Daddy bought you.”

Lance sobs. He’d do anything Daddy wanted him to do, wants someone to tell him what to do so he can be good.

“And you’re such a little slut you’d get hard each time you passed this desk, _oh_ you’d get so hard so fast, wouldn’t you, baby? Yeah?”

The hand in his hair comes to life, Andy’s hand spanning almost the entirety of the back of Lance’s head and _fuck_ that’s hot. What’s hotter though is his hair getting tugged on, getting pulled up and up _and up_ until Lance has no choice but to follow with a set of whimpers until he’s vertical. The hand in his hair swaps its position for one around the front of his throat and that’s—

_“Oh fuck, Daddy.”_

The hand that isn’t wrapped around the column of Lance’s throat digs into the meat of his hip, holds him steady as Andy continues to rock into him, bounces against his pert ass. Andy Barber is a man of consistency, a man of passion, and it shines through each and every time the two of them are together in such a way. Lance has never encountered such devotion and focus when fucking someone else and he whole-heartedly has not been appreciating it nearly as much as he should have been.

He hasn’t been appreciating Andy Barber _as a person_ as much as he should have been.

The other man purrs into his ear, pulls Lance away from his untimely thoughts, the hand on his hip running up the curve of Lance’s back, shirt rucking up as he moves. The lewd sticky sound of them fucking, the slaps of skin and the _squelch_ of Lance’s pussy getting wrecked, sounds like a goddamn concert in this empty gym, sounds like it’s performing for a crowd of thousands. Lance loves performing.

 _“Fuck_ , I can’t wait to get’chu all bent up in all those positions you’re always bitchin’ about, put your money where your mouth is. Bet you’d look sweeter than sin with your feet curled behind your head beggin’ for my come…”

Lance sees stars.

Lance doesn’t beg, or at least he thought so, but he’s so consumed with the picture that Andy paints for him in his head that he knows for certain he’d beg Daddy to come in his pussy. In fact—

 _“Ohh_ , Daddy please…”

Andy curses, harsh like the bite on the gymnast’s shoulder that follows, staggers forward with Lance right in tow until Lance has to bring his own arms forward to hold them shoddily up against the desk. His pace quickens, deepens, _how_ Lance doesn’t know but god he had no idea Daddy had been holding back on him. He mewls, feels his dick jump with every thrust Daddy gives him, so fucking full. The bend in his back, the arch, deepens and curls as Daddy presses him down, _down,_ by the hip but the hand on his throat doesn’t waver.

It’s a test, a test of said flexibility.

“Should have known the mention of my come would make a slutty boy like you lose his fucking mind.”

His fucking mind lost its way long ago, back when Andy asked him if a girl knew he had a pussy too. His breathing strains from such a position, head bent back so far that when he looks up, he’s look right up at Daddy. Lance shouts, sputters, as soon as he sees that face and that beard and _those eyes._

Lance might be in love. Or maybe that’s a side effect of how thoroughly he’s getting fucked right now.

He doesn’t even recognize the swirls and build of his own orgasm until his eyes are closing, no use for them staying open when Andy brings his lips and presses them messily into Lance’s upturned forehead. He can’t remember the last time he came on someone’s cock alone, no attention to his dick by either party, and it’s shocking, has him gasping, has him sobbing.

 _“Daddy!_ Daddy I’m—”

“Fuck, pretty boy—already?”

“Uh-huh, please I… _please_ lemme come!” Lance doesn’t recognize his own voice, begging and pleading aside. It’s strained, high and feminine. Lance has never heard it like that. Andy’s fucking into him so deeply, with so much power, that he’s having trouble holding the two of them upright. Daddy doesn’t seem to care, will fuck him right through the floor if that’s where they end up.

“You come sayin’ my name, you hear me? You come tellin’ me who I am, Lance. Who am I to you?”

Lance’s whole body clenches up as he shouts, “ _Daddy!”_

“Come.”

Lance has never listened to anyone without some sort of fight. He bites back, sasses back, obeys no one, but when Andy Barber— _Daddy—_ tells him to come he fucking comes. It’s a miracle within a miracle and Andy fucks him through every second of it. Every shake and tremor and, quite frankly and embarrassingly, scream. He knows Daddy can _feel_ the noises he makes, the screams and wails, on his hand on Lance’s throat as the tumble from his mouth. He knows Daddy can feel the way his pussy clenches and trembles, physically begging for the other man’s come, by the way he growls about it in his ear. This orgasm feels like a layered relief like nothing Lance has ever felt, like with every wave, each ebb and flow, he feels more like himself than he ever has.

Daddy comes before his orgasm is even over, grabs for Lance with both hands, both arms, groans into the skin of his neck. It’s like Daddy’s orgasm prolongs his own, like the significance of never having anyone before his Daddy come in his pussy makes him almost come again.

 _“Fuck,_ baby s’pussy is so good, _goddamn_ so good for Daddy isn’t it?”

Andy has always been someone who is vocal when they come, someone who holds Lance close, pulls him in tight, gives him some teeth, some bites. This is no different but is more amplified than normal. Andy puts his entire being into this orgasm, squeezes and holds onto Lance like a treasure. His mouth doesn’t part from Lance’s ear and he finds himself smiling that he gets to hear all of Daddy’s noises _right there_ , so close, so feral.

It makes him feel invincible, that he did this.

Lance has been worn out before, has had workouts and competitions, _the fucking Olympics_ , but nothing compares to the fatigue he feels when that last ragged sigh leaves his body. He knows he is going to feel this for days but that’s the point he guesses. He clenches down around Andy’s cock, is greedy for a moment that literally ended mere minutes ago.

He gets a smack on his ass for his troubles, a chuckle into his shoulder.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Andy mumbles into his neck before kissing the underside of his jaw, giving him a little squeeze.

“You gonna get this ‘fuckin’ brat’ some dinner or what? Got calories to make up for here.”

Andy laughs this time, no chuckle, and it has a new ring to it. Lance likes it.

“Oh how quickly we forget our manners when we’re not gettin’ fucked. Even though I’m literally still inside of you.”

Lance wiggles his ass back into Andy’s crotch, clenches a little more, ignores the jump in his gut when he feels how hard Andy still is.

“M’sorry, D-Daddy,” he whispers, taking a chance and saying _that word_ outside of the context of fucking. Lance still likes it and so does Andy, purrs a little when he hears it.

“S’my boy. Let’s get you some dinner. Won’t even clean you up, let you go messy. You want that?”

Lance hates how much he wants that.

**Author's Note:**

> Eeeeee, hope you enjoyed this change of pace! I would love to hear from you! Come talk to me on Tumblr @howdoyousleep3! <3 <3 <3


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